Pandora's Box
by misanthrope1
Summary: When one of the Heroes is taken by the Gestapo, what will he endure and how can the others help?  Warning, violence, cruelty
1. Chapter 1

"Come on,_ raus, raus!_"

"Easy, Schultzie, we're coming." Newkirk yawned as Barracks 2 emptied. Colonel Hogan strolled out into the brisk morning air, zipping his jacket tight. The rotund sergeant began counting the sleepy, shivering prisoners. The odor of the kantine making breakfast filled the air. Carter stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Colonel, look out there," he murmured.

Hogan turned his head as Klink stepped onto the porch. Outside Stalag 13 rested three trucks and a long black car. Nazi flags fluttered and snapped in the breeze. "Schultz, report!"

"All present and accounted for, sir!"

"Attention! All prisoners are restricted to the barracks until further notice!"

"I protest, Kommandant! For what reason?!" Hogan demanded.

"The Gestapo has requested a meeting. You are not invited, Colonel Hogan. Dismissed!"

Hogan glanced at the trucks as his men clustered around him. "Gestapo," Newkirk muttered. "Ruddy charming."

"What do you think the filthy Boches want, mon Colonel?" LeBeau queried.

"Nothing good," Hogan commented.

"Probably here about that train we blew up," Kinch suggested.

"Maybe. Let's get inside." Hogan tapped Carter's shoulder. "Let's go. Warm up the coffee pot, Kinch."

Schultz gestured the men inside but grabbed Newkirk's arm as he passed. "Not you, Englander. The Kommandant wants you."

"What for?" Newkirk protested. Hogan turned as Schultz pulled Newkirk back outside.

"Hey! What's going, Schultz?"

"All I know, Herr Colonel, is Newkirk is wanted outside."

"Then I go with him. I'm Senior POW here."

"Nein, Colonel Hogan. Just Newkirk."

"Come on, Schultz, you can't take just Newkirk," Kinch protested.

"Oui, Schultzie. He will get lonely," LeBeau said.

"_Nein_!" Schultz snapped. "I have my orders. Come on, Newkirk."

Newkirk's pupils dilated but he nodded. "All right, Schultzie. Be back in a tick, mates. Keep the coffee hot."

Hogan stepped forward but Schultz held up his hand. "_Please_, Colonel Hogan." His voice trembled. Hogan blinked at the fear in Schultz's face.

"It's okay, gov'nor. I'll be all right." Newkirk looked at Hogan, green eyes wide. Hogan gazed steadily at the Corporal and Newkirk managed a grin. Then Schultz closed the door.

Three heartbeats later, Hogan raised the periscope. Carter opened the door slightly. LeBeau peered out beside him. "It's not just Newkirk," Hogan said softly.

"What's going on?" Carter asked eagerly.

"The trucks are coming in," Kinch said from the window. "How many men are out there?"

"At least 100, 200 men." Hogan shifted weight. "What's going on?"

"Uh oh," Kinch muttered. "Take a look, Colonel."

"That's a new major. Wonderful. Hochstetter must be out of town."

"They must have all the English prisoners out there," Carter exclaimed.

"He's right, mon Colonel. The only people out there are_ l'anglais_."

"Why?" Kinch murmured aloud.

"No!" Hogan shouted as the trucks started being loaded. He lowered the periscope and pushed past LeBeau. The sound of rifles made him hesitate and a hand yanked him back into the barracks and shut the door.

"Not wise, Colonel," Kinch warned, releasing Hogan's jacket. "The Gestapo doesn't play around."

"They're taking them," Carter exclaimed from the window.

"All of them?" Hogan asked, going back to the periscope.

"Non. They are selecting certain ones," LeBeau replied as he cracked open the door again. "Hopefully Newkirk will not be chosen."

"No such luck," Hogan growled. He watched the major grab Newkirk's collar and toss him against the back of a truck. Even across the compound, Newkirk's yelp could be heard. Hogan ground his teeth as Schultz helped Newkirk to his feet. Newkirk shook his head and Schultz helped him into the truck. Hogan watched as the trucks were loaded and the major argued with Klink. The trucks pulled out of Stalag 13 and as the gates closed, Hogan stalked to Klink.

"Don't start with me, Hogan." Klink held up a hand. "I don't want to hear it."

"Where are my men?"

"Major Helder had orders and needed certain men. He selected people."

"Who is this major?"

"He's Gestapo. That's all I need to know, Hogan. He has orders from Berlin."

"These are my men! The Geneva Conventation..."

"Is not what the Gestapo cares about," Klink interrupted. "I'm sorry!"

"Where are they going?"

"He wouldn't tell me. Only that the Gestapo needed them. I didn't have a choice, Colonel Hogan."

"Why only British POWs?"

"Because that is what he demanded."

"I want them back, Kommandant."

"So do I, Colonel. Unfortunately, they belong to the Gestapo now."

Hogan fought back a rising surge of rage and fear. Klink left him in the compound. Hogan turned to his men as they huddled around him. "Not good," he reported. "No one knows where they're going."

"Why?" Kinch asked.

"Klink doesn't know. Nor does he know why this Major Helder chose only Englishmen."

"Here comes Schultz." LeBeau muttered. The fat sergeant hurried to Hogan.

"I have something for you, Colonel Hogan. Newkirk wanted me to give this to you." He handed Hogan a soft handful of cloth.

"Thanks, Schultz." Hogan recognized Newkirk's cap and clenched it tight.

"I am sorry about this, Colonel Hogan."

"Why did they choose Newkirk?" Carter asked.

"I do not know. All I know is Major Helder spoke to each man and chose around 50."

"Why did the Major toss him?" Kinch questioned.

"Eh, Major Helder did not like Newkirk's answers. The Englander has a fresh mouth."

"Oui," LeBeau agreed.

"Thanks again, Schultz." Hogan headed back to the barracks, his men beside him. At the barracks, LeBeau asked

"What did he give you?"

Hogan opened his fist and showed the men. "He put his pencil sharpener and lock picks inside."

"Smart," Kinch murmured. "At least the Gestapo won't find them."

"But he's helpless," Carter protested. "I mean, he has no way out without his picks."

"What are we going to do, Colonel?"

"LeBeau, bring me a few of the guys not chosen. I want to know why those men were selected. Kinch, contact the underground, find out if they know anything. Carter, see what we have on this Helder."

"Gotcha," Carter eagerly said.

In about five minutes, three of the rejected British soldiers stood in front of Hogan in Barracks Two with LeBeau. Carter held a file in his hand at the table. "Corporal Hawkins, Sergeant Wilkins, and Private Shaw," LeBeau introduced.

"What did he ask you?" Hogan demanded.

"Just our names and rank and what unit we belonged to," Hawkins said, his Scottish burr slightly slurring his words.

"Any idea what he was looking for?" Hogan leaned against a bunk.

"He listened to the way we answered," Shaw replied. Hogan tilted his head at the Irish lilt. LeBeau glanced at him.

"And you?" Hogan asked Wilkins. "Anything you noticed?"

"He was very particular, sir," Wilkins replied. "He had a few people repeat their answers."

Hogan studied Wilkins. "He took only English prisoners, right?"

Wilkins nodded. "Yes, sir."

"He didn't want any Irish or Scotsmen," Hogan mused. "Why not?"

"But, mon Colonel, Sergeant Wilkins is English," LeBeau said.

"He just doesn't sound like Newkirk," Carter said, flipping through the file.

Hogan's eyes widened and LeBeau stared at Carter. "He's right,' LeBeau blurted.

"Newkirk and I have different backgrounds." Wilkins said. He looked at Shaw and Hawkins. "I think you and your men pegged it, sir. All the chosen men are Cockney."

"He's looking for city boys," Hawkins agreed.

Hogan frowned. Wilkins smiled slightly. "Helder made a few errors. 'e didn't get all of us."

Hogan jerked as the upper class English slid into Cockney as thick as Newkirk's. "I thought you were from Sussex," Hawkins said.

" 'Ad to spend me youth somewhere. Summers in London streets. I was told I was a bleedin' disgrace to me name." Wilkins shrugged. "So Helder wants Londoners. Why?"

"He must want information about something in the city." Hogan paced. "Or he could want street smarts. It has to be something with London." He looked at the three men. "Thanks. I appreciate your help."

"Anything you need, sir," Wilkins said. They left and Hogan turned to Carter.

"Anything on Helder, Carter?"

"Nothing good," Carter replied, looking at Hogan with a pale face. "He's not easy on his prisoners."

"What are we going to do, Colonel?"

Hogan straightened up. "We're going to find out what's going on."


	2. Chapter 2

Newkirk peered around the truck. He saw fearful looks in most of his fellow prisoner's eyes but faces were calm. He glanced at one of the Gestapo guards. "Eh, Fritz, what's going on then?" he asked.

The backhand slap sent Newkirk's head reeling. "Don't talk to me, dog," the guard snapped. Newkirk touched his mouth and his fingers came away bloody.

"Newkirk?" a soft voice said. A cloth touched his hand. A handkerchief. He looked into Private Jenkins' wide eyes_. Innocent as Andrew_.

"It's all right. Just a bit of a sore lip." Newkirk wiped his mouth. "Thank you, though." Jenkins nodded. "Wonder what the Gestapo wants with us then eh? How'd we draw the short straw?"

"Bloody wanker wants British blood," another voice said.

Newkirk looked around, quickly realized that every man in his truck was Cockney. He rubbed his head and winced at the pain_. Helder wants Londoners. Why? And how is the gov'nor getting me out of here_?

He leaned back and closed his eyes. The trucks rumbled along. As the trucks went uphill, the wind picked up and Newkirk studied the changing landscape through the rear of the truck. Snow hung thick and trees got closer together. After a long time they jerked to a halt and the men were unloaded in a large courtyard. The scent of pine filled the air and Newkirk swallowed as he studied the stone walls, festooned with red and black flags and swastikas. The sound of the boots scraping on stone echoed eerily loud. Newkirk's gaze flicked over the silent men and then to the guards. Helder stalked forward.

"You are now prisoners of the Gestapo. I am Major Helder. You will answer my questions and then be sent back to your Stalag. Any attempt to escape and you will be shot. Understand?" The prisoners shuffled. Helder snorted. "Filthy British dogs," he muttered. He spat out a few sentences in German and Newkirk inhaled. Helder had just ordered his men to place each man in a cell and then start the interrogations. He stared at his shoes as Helder looked at the prisoners again.

Soon he found himself in a tiny windowless cell. He touched the thick concrete walls and frowned. The walls were damp and the thick wooden door had only a small barred window that looked into the hall. Newkirk swallowed hard. The tomblike room made him start pacing, pausing only to examine the walls. Screams interrupted his pacing and the lights flickered. Newkirk sat on the concrete floor and waited. He wondered if this was an old castle. It certainly seemed old and he swallowed hard, instinctively knowing no one knew where they were.

_Colonel Hogan got through this. The ruddy Krauts couldn't break him. I can beat this in a cakewalk. _Newkirk rubbed his arms. _Blimey it's cold in here. Going to catch pneumonia. I wonder if these are old dungeons. _

He didn't know how long he waited. He'd been fed twice, weevilly bread and thin potato soup and slept fitfully, continually wakened by screams and moans. Sound traveled well despite thick walls. The damp concrete seemed to leech into his very bones. Finally the door crashed open and a guard hauled him to his feet. "Easy, mate, that's my ruddy arm!" he snapped. A rifle butt slammed into the small of his back and he fell to his knees. Soon he found himself shivering in front of Helder. The major sat at a large desk in an ornate, plush library. _Old castle is right. Or fortress. _Helder looked up and crinkled his nose in disgust.

"Disgraceful. You smell like a pig, Corporal."

"Sorry, Major. The shower facilities here leave a bit to be desired."

The blue eyes gleamed. "I'll note your complaint." The Major slowly stood up. "You are..?"

"Corporal Peter Newkirk. RAF."

Helder checked a list. "Ah, yes, you are from Klink's Stalag 13."

"Yes."

"And you know Colonel Hogan?"

_Here it comes. _"'E's the senior POW officer at Stalag 13," Newkirk said truthfully.

"I'm amazed he or Klink can stand to have you around." Helder pursed his lips and walked around his desk. "Tell me about London streets, Corporal."

"You can buy a ruddy guide book, sir. That'll tell you more than I can."

Pain exploded in his face. Blood began streaming down his right cheek and he bit back a shriek as Mejor Helder drew his hand along his cheekbone, agony following the Major's fingers. Major Helder then dropped a palm stiletto on his desk. "Let's try this again," he calmly said as Newkirk pressed his fingers against the wound. "Tell me about the London streets."

"I 'haven't been in London for a long time," Newkirk spat, feeling blood spill down his cheek and chin.

"From the way you speak, you grew up in the streets. I'm certain you can remember them."

"Corporal Peter Newkirk, RAF. That's all I'm required to tell you."

"This will be very painful for you then."

Newkirk soon found himself gagging on the floor, in a fetal position. _Guards are ruddy pros! I don't think there's a single inch of skin they didn't bruise. _Helder prodded him distastefully with a shiny boot tip, stepping away from a blood smear. "Are you ready to speak now?" he said.

"I'm-- not-- a ruddy dog!" Newkirk gasped between flashes of pain. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees.

Helder leaned over and dragged him to his feet by the collar. "Not a dog," he said coldly. "You're a street mongrel. But even curs can be trained." He smiled. "And once they're trained, they're the first to lick their master's hand."

Newkirk glared at the major. "You'll be waiting a bleedin' long time."

Helder looked at him, a calculating light in his eyes. He sat back at his desk and spat out orders in German. Newkirk didn't react although he knew damn well what Helder was ordering. _I'm a keeper? I don't like the bleedin' sound of that. Sometimes I wish I didn't understand German. Although after a ruddy year of intensive German lessons and practice--bloody right I understand. Although none of us are as good as the gov'nor or Kinch. Gov'nor, I know you're coming. Please make it soon. I don't know 'ow much longer I can 'old on._


	3. Chapter 3

Hogan paced Barracks Two. "Let's go over this again. The Underground says that Helder has selected British soldiers from numerous Stalags. Most are Cockney. Thankfully most are returned within a week. And Helder has had numerous meetings with Himmler's aides. What about?"

Tiger smiled at him. "We are trying to find that out for you, Hogan." Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch all looked at her. "Helder is very close lipped." Her smile vanished. "We are trying to find out where he has the men."

"Damn." Hogan drummed his fingers on the table. "Tiger, find out what you can. If I haven't heard anything in three days, we'll contact you and tell you what we're planning. This unit may be shutting down. You'll have to contact the others and get out of the area."

"What?" Carter blurted.

Hogan looked at the young Sergeant. "I know what those goons can do, Carter."

"Newkirk is strong, mon Colonel. He wouldn't betray us," LeBeau exclaimed passionately.

Hogan squeezed his shoulder. "Never willingly," Hogan said softly. "But the Gestapo can drag out anything. If it comes to that, I'll send you three ahead to London."

"Us?" Kinch blurted. Hogan gazed steadily at him.

"I have to try to save Newkirk. I won't risk you three."

"You can't do it alone," Kinch protested.

"And Newkirk is our friend too!" Carter reminded.

"Oui," LeBeau declared. "And if we are to be disbanded, we can choose what we want to do."

"It's a suicide run!" Hogan protested. "We don't even know where he is!"

"Your point?" Tiger asked archly. "You have no problem killing yourself but complain when others wish to do the same?"

Hogan stared at her then at his men all who stared right back. "You can't risk yourselves," he blurted.

"If we have to, we will," LeBeau said. "Pierre is_ mon ami. _I will go."

"Me, too," Carter exclaimed. Kinch merely smiled grimly.

Hogan threw up his hands.

------------------

Newkirk hissed as Gestapo guards dragged him before Helder. He had no illusions about what he looked like. Blood matted his hair from where a guard had tossed him into a wall and dirt encrusted his skin and torn clothes. His numerous bruises ached and his cut face throbbed. Helder shook his head. "Many of your friends are going back to Stalag 13," he said.

"I guess I'm not invited," Newkirk said.

"We shall see." Helder gestured for him to sit. Newkirk stubbornly stayed standing. "As you wish. Here, draw out a map of London's east side."

"I can't draw," Newkirk lied.

"Try."

"Major, I 'aven't the faint clue what you want."

"I want a map. Draw, Corporal."

"I don't know 'ow!"

"Lines on paper," Helder stated. "The streets of London's East side. It's certainly no secret."

"I really do recommend a guide book." Newkirk flinched as Helder rose to his face, eyes glittering.

"I won't tell you again."

Newkirk stared at him, gathering his courage. "I. Don't. Know. 'Ow."

Helder gestured and guards grabbed Newkirk's shoulders. In a large, bare room, obviously once a ballroom, cold iron clamped around his wrists and chains ran to two stout walls. Beautiful ornate carvings decorated the woodwork. A guard roughly stripped him completely. Newkirk shuddered in terror, tried to turn off his mind. Helder strolled into the room. "We start the training now," he said. "You will learn to obey." He nodded and a guard uncoiled a long black whip. Newkirk shivered violently.

_However did you get through this, Colonel? _

He tried to think of his friends as the first lash fell.

Helder observed the battered man's head loll back and he held up his hand. The guard stopped immediately and Helder looked over the prisoner. He was rather surprised at the man's tenacity. He'd withstood 13 skin splitting lashes before falling unconscious. Helder reached out and turned the man's face to him with a gloved hand. He was rather pleased to see the cut on the man's cheek would scar. This one would remember him.

Green eyes fluttered open and Helder smiled at the fear he saw. "You smell of the streets, Corporal. Perhaps a shower will help."

The Englishman bit his lip. Yet he remained silent as the guards dragged him to the showers. Helder returned to his office. When Newkirk was hauled in, clad in a clean uniform and reeking of disinfectant, Helder looked up with a smile. "Much better," he said. "I'm impressed. Amazing what a German cleaning can do for even an English cur. Think what we will accomplish after ruling Britain for ten years."

"Not a ruddy chance."

Helder clenched his fists under his desk. "Wake up, Corporal. The Third Reich is advancing everywhere. The Americans recognize this and will sue for peace as soon as Britain falls."

Despite swaying on his feet, the prisoner's lips curled into a smile. "And 'ow's that Russian fight doing? Marching into Moscow yet?"

"Russia is inconsequential. Sit, Corporal."

Newkirk sat slowly, painfully. Helder noted the shaking hands and milk white skin. "Tell me about Merlin's spellbook."

The green eyes widened. "You're ruddy joking," he blurted.

Helder wanted to scream in delight. His instincts had been correct. He'd hit gold. He breathed in. "Tell me," he ordered.

"Merlin's spellbook? That's why you looked for Londoners? It's a child's myth!"

"I did not ask your opinion, dog! I want to know what you've heard!" Helder slapped the desk.

The prisoner flinched. Helder leaned forward and the Englishman began breathing hard. The phone rang and Helder grabbed it. When he looked up, the prisoner had passed out.

Newkirk woke in an inferno of pain. Yet he could move and he sipped his soup. Bits of German drifted down the hallway and he listened. As he did, his heart raced faster_. Helder has to leave for a few days? General Burkhalter? Oh, gov'nor what have you got up your sleeve? At least I might have a chance now. If I can ruddy walk, that is._

He started to pace and stopped after a few steps. Sinking to the floor, he shivered as Helder's voice bellowed out orders. Newkirk listened and inhaled. _Why is he ordering some of the prisoners to be killed while escaping tomorrow night? Why?! 42 left Stalag 13 and 'e's keeping one-aren't I the lucky duck?-and sending back only 33. I 'ave to stop him. None of those men deserve this. They may not be my mates but I can't let them be killed. _Newkirk stood again, legs shaking. "I can't," he whispered. Fire blazed up and down his limbs and he felt liquid seeping down his back. Then he pictured Colonel Hogan looking at him. His Colonel would never blame him, never accuse him of anything. Yet he couldn't let his gov'nor down. Or his mates.

He sank down and studied the door. Old, thick, heavy wood. He certainly couldn't break it down. It only opened when he was dragged out or fed. As he looked at it, he sighed. Soon he fell asleep, shivering in the cold.

Hours later, he woke when he heard the door creak open. "Raus!" A guard gestured with a pistol for him to come into the hallway. Newkirk scrambled to his feet, swaying slightly. The guard pushed him forward down the hall in Helder's office.

Helder looked up. "My dog is here," he said. He looked Newkirk up and down. "Sit." Newkirk reluctantly sat, knees shaking. "I must leave you here for a few days, English. While I am gone, you will be checked out by a doctor then join my other pets in Berlin."

"Sod off."

He expected the slap, was prepared for it. "You will learn respect," Helder softly said. "If I have to shatter every bone in your body." Newkirk gazed into his cold brown eyes. He shook and swallowed hard. "Be prepared," Helder said. "I want to know all you know about Merlin's spellbook."

"It's a myth! Next thing you'll want ruddy Excalibur!"

"Later."

Newkirk's heart sank. "Take him," Helder ordered the guard. "I must leave." The guard yanked Newkirk to his feet. After a few turns, Newkirk found himself in an infirmary. A muttering man of around 50 and clad in a white coat looked him up and down.

"English. They're almost as bad as the Juden. This is Helder's new hound?" he asked in heavily accented English.

"Ja. The Major wishes him examined and measured for a collar and leash," the guard said. The doctor grasped Newkirk's bruised chin and turned his head. He snorted and touched the throbbing cut. Newkirk winced.

"Our Major needs to be gentler with his pets."

"He has a few bumps," the guard shrugged.

"My name is Corporal Newkirk," Newkirk snapped. The doctor raised an eyebrow.

"You still have bark. I'm here to examine you. Sit there." His finger jabbed the air. Newkirk sourly sat on the table. The guard nodded and left the room. The doctor glanced at Newkirk and any fragment of hope shrivelled in Newkirk's chest. There was no compassion in this doctor. Disgust, yes, some intellectual curiosity, but no recognition of a fellow human being.

He sat statue still as the doctor measured his skull and studied his eyes. The doctor muttered, checked his mouth and teeth. As the doctor scribbled on a chart, Newkirk's gaze flicked over various bottles and items. He endured the poking silently, enjoying the sensation of actually being warm as the office was well heated. The doctor measured his fingers then tapped his chest. "Strip," the doctor said. Newkirk complied slowly, fighting back tears as he tugged off his shirt.

The doctor's eyes widened. "This is why dogs shouldn't snap." He tapped Newkirk's shoulder and Newkirk grabbed the table edge.

"Just give me a ruddy aspirin!"

Astonishingly enough, the doctor handed him two tablets. Newkirk glanced at the pills, relieved to see they were simple aspirin and dry swallowed them. The bitter taste reassured him these were aspirin. Newkirk endured the rest of the lengthy "physical" without another word. The doctor did nothing to clean his seeping wounds. While the doctor wrote on his chart, Newkirk haltingly dressed, gasping in pain now and then. At one point, he fell against the counter, knocking over and smashing several bottles and trays. "Clumsy ox!" the doctor yelled.

"Sorry," Newkirk stammered. He bent over and picked up syringes, bottles, and medical instruments.

The guard raced in, gun drawn. "He is as inapt as he is stupid! Take this oaf out of here!" the doctor snapped. "Tell Helder when he returns this one should be castrated as well as chained." Sweat broke out down Newkirk's spine. The guard eyed him.

"I will tell the Major your recommendation, herr Doktor. I'm sure he will agree." The guard shoved him to his cell and Newkirk curled into a ball, shaking like a leaf. Next to his skin rested a bottle, a couple of syringes, and a pair of tweezers.

---------


	4. Chapter 4

"They think they're where?" Hogan stared at Kinch with wide eyes.

"In the mountains. A castle." Kinch tapped a map. "It's old."

"Newkirk's in a castle?!" Carter's eyes widened.

"More like a fortress from what the Underground said," Kinch commented. "The Nazis confiscated the keep. Tiger said the family fled one night."

"Smart people," LeBeau mentioned.

"And Kraut patrols have been doubled." Hogan rubbed his eyes. "We have to retrieve these men."

"We need to know for sure," Kinch said.

"Tiger says she has a few contacts in the area. We should hear tonight." Hogan looked at LeBeau. "LeBeau, you and Carter meet her and get the information."

"Oui, mon Colonel." LeBeau observed his Colonel. "Colonel, Pierre will be fine." The small Frenchman touched Hogan's shoulder. "I can feel it."

"We don't even know if any of them are alive, least of all Newkirk." Hogan pulled on his jacket. "I'm going to work on Klink."

After he left, Carter looked at LeBeau. "You really think he's all right?" he asked softly.

LeBeau looked into Carter's wide, worried blue eyes. "I do, Andrew. He's alive."

Carter smiled boyishly and got up. "I need to work on some explosives." He left and Kinch looked at LeBeau.

"You did good, Louis."

"Merci, Kinch."

"You know, even if he is alive, after five days in Gestapo hands, he isn't all right."

"Mon Colonel survived. Pierre will, too."

Kinch sighed and watched as LeBeau began cooking. _I hope you're right, Louis._

---------------------------------------

Newkirk twisted the tweezers and grinned as the old lock gave easily. He exhaled and cracked open the door. No guard. He grinned wider. Then he crept forward, listening intently. A few yards down the hall, he heard the sound of boots. Carefully he pulled out the loaded syringe and slipped forward.

Ten minutes later, he bit his tongue as he pulled on tight black boots_. Ruddy small footed Krauts_. Newkirk tugged the Gestapo coat snug, touched the sidearm, and pulled on gloves. He hurriedly looked in the mirror. The intense bruising around his right eye and the long cut down his cheek could be partially hidden by dark glasses, upturned collar, scarf, and careful posturing. He slid on the glasses and dragged the unconscious, gagged guard into a nearby closet. When he was finished, sweat dripped down his seeping back and he shook like grass in the breeze.

_Hit the doctor's office first. _ He glanced at his new watch. 1300 hours. He had plenty of time. In the empty doctor's office, he hastily grabbed some pain killers and looked longingly for morphine. _Even if I find it, I couldn't take it. I'd be out like a light. _He swallowed the pain killers and filled his pockets with items Wilson could possibly use. As he quickly pilfered a cabinet, he noted an odd stone near the floor. He slowly squatted down and examined it, pushing aside a small cabinet . He ran sensitive fingers over the stone, found a small hollow, and pushed. A click and a panel slid open in the wall and cold air hit his face. He slowly stepped forward into a cowbebbed stone tunnel and walked forward into nightmare.

Five hours later, Lt. Wagner of the Gestapo cowered as a black garbed colonel gazed at him. "I said Load up everyone in the castle and I mean everyone."

"Herr Colonel, Major Helder has given orders..."

The ice voice didn't raise. "Lt. Wagner, I will tell you once more. In ten minutes every prisoner will be on a truck. Those trucks will be heading to Stalags or Berlin where Himmler is waiting. The coming snowstorm will be your tomb if my orders are not followed out immediately. I want all of Helder's prisoners. Berlin is severely displeased with Major Helder."

Lt. Wagner shuddered. "Major Helder has a few special prisoners, his dog pack but they are at Berlin."

"Obviously I have taken care of those prisoners. I want the ones here. I will go with you and ensure every prisoner is loaded."

Lt. Wagner looked at one of his associates and then turned back to the Colonel. The sheer stillness of the man terrified him. He nodded. "Immediately, Herr Colonel."

Newkirk stalked the hallways, ensuring every person was released. Behind his dark glasses he observed battered souls cringe from him. He almost cracked as a child screamed at his appearance. An older woman, probably the mother, hastily silenced the girl. He gestured and the guards dragged out the prisoners out.

Newkirk watched as five trucks were loaded with staggering POWs as well as one with ragged civilians. He swallowed a pain killer quickly, feeling his legs shake. Then he turned to the guards in front of him. "The first five trucks will go to Stalag 13," he ordered quietly. "I will travel with the last truck to Berlin."

"Herr Colonel, those people are mine," the doctor protested. He gestured to the civilians. "These people, these prisoners are my subjects. All of them are vital to my studies."

Newkirk withdrew his sidearm and pointed it at the doctor. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger and the doctor crumpled to the ground. "Any more complaints?" he asked. The guards all stiffly saluted and Newkirk walked to the last truck. As the trucks rolled out, he leaned back and hissed. _I can't keep this up. 'Ow does the gov'nor do this? _Then he remembered what he'd seen and clenched his briefcase tight.

The jolting truck and pain kept him awake through the long trip. Snow began falling slowly then heavily. The trucks trundled slowly through the snow and the night and Newkirk shivered. He removed the dark glasses, pulled his hat low, retied his scarf. As they reached a large, lonely woods that he recognized, he ordered the truck to stop. "I will take care of some prisoners." He stood and bit his lip so hard it bled. He wiped his lips as he walked to the back of the truck, swallowed another pain killer_. Taking these like candy. Wilson would kill me. At least they dull the pain. I can function. _He glanced at the prisoners, eyes lingering on the small girl who'd screamed when she'd first seen him. Perhaps seven, he thought. The girl stared at him as he chose two men. "Raus!" he snapped. He pointed to a guard. "Bring them."

Behind a treeline, he curtly order the two prisoners to halt. Then he turned, walked behind the guard, and shot him point blank in the head.

Jon Luc and Michele both flinched, expecting the bullet to tear through them. "I bloody 'ope you two 'ave some bright ideas because I'm running out," a low voice rasped. Jon wheeled.

The Gestapo Colonel leaned against a tree behind them, the guard dead at his feet. "One of you should fit in that bloody uniform. Hurry up and change." The two Frenchman stared blankly. "Ruddy 'ell. Parlez vous anglais?" Despite the life and death circumstances, Jon Luc's lips quivered at the heavy accent. The Gestapo Colonel sighed. "I hate this." He gestured to the dead guard. "Uniform. Dress. Now." He pointed. "Take the rifle, too. Hurry!"

"Your accent is horrible," Michele dared in English. The Colonel smiled.

"I know. My French mate tells me that constantly." Jon Luc began stripping the guard. "I'll get the other guards. Can anyone speak German?"

Michele nodded. "Get the brunette mademoiselle and the bearded blond gentleman."

"Will do. You two hide behind trees when I come back." The Colonel walked off. Michele tapped Jon Luc's shoulder.

"Look at his tracks," he whispered. The Colonel's tracks were uneven and ragged. Yet he came back, snapping in German at the guards and the prisoners. Soon two more Gestapo guards laid dead and the civilians dressed hastily.

"Who are you?" Jon Luc asked as the strange Colonel watched them.

"Best you know as little as possible," the man replied. His face glowed white like the falling snow. "You can call me White Rabbit." White Rabbit exhaled, long and gravelly. "Can you get those people and yourself to safety?"

"Oui," Jon Luc said. "You can call me Noir and this is Estelle." He pointed to Michele. "She is Rue, he is Soliel."

"Nice to meet you. I 'ave some papers for you to get you through the roadblocks. Swiped them from that lovely place we were in. Noir you drive. When we get nearer to a certain place, you drop me off."

"You're not well," Rue said softly.

"I'll be fine, luv." He gestured to the truck. "Let's go. And none of you try anything stupid like 'eading 'ome. Helder will be there like a shot."

Back in the truck, Jon Luc drove while White Rabbit slumped in his seat. After 20 minutes or so, Jon Luc looked at the stranger and shook his head at the ugly grey tinge underlying his skin. "Rue is right. Come with us," Jon Luc said.

"Can't. I 'ave things to do. If you are the Underground or have contacts, tell them about me, about Meinstag." The man touched his face and Jon Luc noted the swelling. "If I don't get through, 'opefully you will." He looked through the snow. "Stop 'ere." He handed Jon Luc a packet from his bulging briefcase. "Some marks, papers. Some for you and the family." He paused. "The little girl--" He swallowed. "Good luck, Noir."

"Merci," Noir said. "You will not be forgotten, White Rabbit."

The stranger smiled and in the dim light, Noir could see the British man's eyes were green.

------


	5. Chapter 5

"Colonel! Colonel!"

Hogan jerked awake. "What?" he exclaimed, yanking open the door. LeBeau gestured.

"Trucks, Colonel. Lots of them."

"It's 0400! What's going on?"

Dogs barked and lights filled the compound. Hogan, LeBeau, Kinch, and Carter scrambled outside as five snow encrusted trucks thundered into the compound. "What do you think it is?" Carter asked.

"Gestapo," Hogan ground out. Camp guards surrounded the trucks as a peeved Klink emerged, dressed in a heavy overcoat.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Prisoner transport, sir. By order of Gestapo Colonel Wolfenmeyer!"

"In the middle of the night?" Klink shouted.

"You may call the Colonel, herr Kommandant!"

Klink paled. "Never mind. Schultz! Unload the prisoners!"

"Jawohl, herr Kommandant!"

Prisoners stumbled from the trucks. "My God," Kinch said softly. "There must be 70 prisoners crammed in those trucks."

"That's Private Jenkins!" Carter exclaimed. "Colonel, they're our men!"

"More than just them," Kinch said.

"Do you see Newkirk?" LeBeau asked.

"No," Hogan said slowly, gaze sweeping the jeeps. "Wait a minute." He smiled with relief. "Take a look."

Clad in an unfamiliar grey uniform, Newkirk stood slightly near Schultz, glancing towards the barracks. Hogan started forward, relief pouring through him, so much he felt light headed. His men followed.

Hogan stopped when Gestapo guards aimed rifles at him. "OK, OK," he said. From a distance, Newkirk seemed all right although he didn't look at them. He was looking at Klink's porch. An irritated General Burkhalter and Major Helder stood there.

"Oh, ruddy hell."

A general rumble ran through the crowd. "What is this?" Helder demanded.

"My prisoners," Klink said, scribbling on the transfer orders. "You could have had them come later in the morning," he sniffed.

"What transfer?" Helder's eyes seemed to spark. He grabbed the papers. "Colonel Wolfenmeyer? Who is this?"

"Is that your signature?" Burkhalter demanded.

"Yes but---"

"Then these are now Klink's problem."

Helder's lips moved. "Not that one!" he spat. "He belongs to me!" He pointed to Newkirk.

"He is part of the prisoner transport," Klink stated.

"You must have been cleaning house, Major. There are at least 70 people here." Burkhalter looked at the raggedy group of prisoners. "Klink, process your prisoners."

"I tell you, this one is mine!" Helder grabbed Newkirk by the collar and yanked him to his side. Newkirk fell to his knees. Hogan started forward immediately. Klink, however, beat him to it. He pulled Newkirk to his feet, glaring at Helder.

"He is _my_ prisoner," Klink said. "Are you all right, Newkirk?"

"I'm all right, Kommandant." Newkirk breathed in a way Hogan did not like in the least. Newkirk looked at his feet.

"I am on a mission from Himmler himself!"

"And this Corporal plays a role?" Burkhalter laughed.

"'E's just mad 'cause I saw the plane," Newkirk spat. His head jerked up. "The one 'e said the Luftwaffe couldn't fly."

Both Burkhalter and Klink froze. "Really?" Burkhalter asked, rocking back on his heels. "Come inside, Corporal, Major. I'd like to hear this."

"He's lying," Helder snapped.

"Schultz, start processing the new prisoners. Newkirk, inside."

"Yes, sir."

Hogan followed the group inside. In Klink's office, he took a good look at Newkirk and his heart sank. Newkirk stared at his feet, skin an ugly shade of grey. He never looked up at Hogan. The sound of his harsh breathing filled the office. Helder eyed Hogan. "I'll be taking this English cur off your hands, Klink," Helder said.

"Hey!" Hogan snapped. "My men are not dogs!"

"You have no standing here! Why is this man here?" Helder spat.

"Colonel Hogan is the Senior POW here," Klink said.

"Corporal, tell me about the plane," Burkhalter said, making himself comfortable. "Klink, get coffee."

"Yes, Herr General."

Newkirk lifted his head a little. "Sir, I can't give you any more than my name, rank, and serial number with the Senior POW 'ere."

Hurt flashed through Hogan but he ignored it. "I have to be here for all questioning," he said.

"You can leave, Hogan," Burkhalter said.

"And have you give my man to this--Major?" Hogan spat.

"I give you my word he stays Klink's prisoner," Burkhalter said.

"It's all right, Colonel," Newkirk said, finally lifting his head. He stared his CO in the eye. Hogan took a good look at Newkirk. His fists clenched. A black right eye and swelling down Newkirk's jaw told him why Newkirk hadn't looked at him. An intense red slice ran down Newkirk's puffed right cheek, along the cheekbone. Hogan's eyes narrowed. It looked too long, too clean, too deep to be anything but a knife wound.

"I think I should stay."

"You are dismissed, Hogan!" Klink snapped.

"Go on, sir. Get some coffee," Newkirk urged. In his green eyes, Hogan read desperation.

Hogan hesitated. "Is this how you run this camp?' Helder spat. "This is how you get obedience." He turned and swung. Newkirk somehow appeared in front of Hogan. The major's open hand landed with a sickening thud and skin split. The long cut broke open and blood began spilling down Newkirk's face.

"Enough, Major!" Burkhalter exclaimed.

Hogan handed his handkerchief to Newkirk. "Thanks, gov," Newkirk muttered, so soft only Hogan could hear. He pressed the handkerchief against his wound. Hogan glared at Helder.

"General Burkhalter, will you give your word you'll keep Helder off Newkirk?"

"You have my word, Hogan. The Major will keep his hands to himself. Otherwise, he may be looking for his snowshoes."

Helder flinched and Hogan nodded. "I'll leave then." He touched Newkirk's shoulder, disturbed to feel Newkirk trembling. Newkirk looked at him, eyes oddly bright. His gaze flicked to the door. Hogan squeezed his shoulder and left.

Outside, he zipped his coat and hurried to the barracks. His men huddled around the table in his quarters, the coffeepot blinking. Kinch handed him a cup of coffee. "How is he?" LeBeau asked worriedly.

Hogan shook his head. "Not good. Helder's worked him over hard."

"Did he hit him?" Carter asked. "We heard a crack."

"Helder was aiming for me. Newkirk stepped between us." He straddled a chair. The men all turned to the radio.

"So, Newkirk, tell us about the plane."

"It's a British Lancaster." Newkirk sounded stronger. "There's also a B-17 up there. See, one of the Gestapo guards decided I needed to see just what Major Helder 'ad." There was an odd catch in his voice. "Major Helder needs a British team and maybe a Yank or two to fly the bombers to England. I was told this was Gestapo business, that the Luftwaffe couldn't do it."

"And why was that?" Burkhalter's voice hummed with tension.

"I don't know, General."

"Why you, Corporal?" Klink asked.

"I know London, sir. The Major 'ere wants Merlin's spellbook."

"I will feed you that wagging tongue." Helder's voice snarled.

"Filthy Boche," LeBeau spat.

"What's Merlin's spellbook?" Carter asked.

"Code," Kinch muttered.

"What's Merlin's Spellbook?" Klink asked.

"It's a child's myth." Newkirk sounded shaky. "Supposedly Merlin left 'is spellbook and it's buried in London's East end."

"And that book rightfully belongs to the Third Reich!" A slap echoed and Hogan figured Helder had hit Klink's desk. "I have a chosen team ready to go. This Corporal rounds out my pack."  
"Why Newkirk?" Klink asked. "He's not a pilot." A pause. "Are you?"

"Me, sir? Are you balmy?"

"He's my street mongrel."

"I'm not a ruddy dog!" Newkirk's voice blazed with anger.

"You tell him, Newkirk!" Carter cheered.

"You forget your training, English." Helder's voice, cold and low, made Hogan's heart race. "I see I've been too lax."

"I don't like the sound of that," Kinch said. He looked at Hogan.

Hogan's jaw clenched. When it returned, Newkirk's voice was soft, a strange change for his fiery temper. "Anyway, General, the guard also showed me the lab."

"Lab?"  
"Shut up!"

"There's a lab. A doctor there--'e tortured people! And the guard showed me bodies--all the people Major Helder killed. All the POW's who 'e couldn't use!"

"What's he talking about Major?"

"He's lying."

"The bodies were stacked like cordwood. And the lab 'ad skeletons and skulls."

"He lies." Helder could heard pacing. "He's making this up."

"Major Duncan, US Air Force. Captain Winters, RAF. Corporal Hinges, RAF. Private Fallon, RAF." Newkirk rattled off names. "I got to see some of the dog tags. Some were shot. Some were hung. Duncan and Winters were still 'anging."

"Why would a guard show you this?"

"'E didn't think Helder and that Colonel Wolfenmeyer would let me go. These were flyers, General."

"You better hope this man is lying, Major."

"Bah. He is. Besides, prisoners die. Even if what he said was true, what would it matter?"

"It matters because our pilots are in English POW camps!" Burkhalter roared. "Do you think the British and the Americans will simply let this pass?"

"This man lies! Besides, the solution is simple." Helder could be heard moving. "Dead men tell no tales."

"Don't touch him, Major." Burkhalter's voice carried a stern threat. "We will visit your Meinstag. If what this man says is true, you can explain it to Berlin. If he's lying, he's your prisoner again."

"Very good." Helder could be heard pacing.

"We will stop in town first. I have things to pick up."

"Very well, Herr General. I need to pick up a collar and chain anyway. We can take the prisoner with us."

"There is no need for that. Klink can watch him."

"I like to keep my pets close. Besides, you don't want him telling tales in the camp."

"Who will he tell? He's a POW," Klink laughed.

"Amazing but Klink is right." Burkhalter could be heard sipping a drink.

"He could cause problems in the camp." Helder paced again.

"My prisoners are my business," Klink hotly defended. "Besides, the Englander is harmless. Big mouthed, yes,a nuisance, yes, but harmless."

"And I can wait in the cooler," Newkirk suggested. Hogan's eyebrows shot up. All his men stared at each other.

"Why would you want to go to the cooler?" Klink asked.

"I don't want to, Kommandant. But if security's the issue, I get the cooler. Once the General sees I'm not lying, I'm back with the other prisoners. And no one need worry that I talked to anyone."

"That is an excellent idea. Klink, have the prisoner escorted to the cooler."

"Of course, General."

"Give me a moment, please," Helder requested. Footsteps and shuffling echoed through the coffeepot.

"Major Helder!" Burkhalter exploded.

"I am not hurting him, Herr General," Helder silkily said. "Just giving the Corporal a message." Hogan launched to his feet. Helder's whisper crackled through the barracks. _They must be right by the mike,_ Hogan thought. "Little cur, when we are back at Meinstag, I will make your previous training a pleasure trip."

"You're a ruddy poor liar, Major," Newkirk could be heard clearly although he, too, was whispering. "You and I both know you won't ever take me back to Meinstag." An exhale. "I won't make it beyond that first curve of the road past Stalag 13."

----------------


	6. Chapter 6

Hogan rubbed his temples. LeBeau, Carter, and Kinch all gazed at him. "Kinch, get hold of London. Find out about Major Duncan, Captain Winters, Corporal Hinges, and Private Fallon. Carter, have Wilson check out those returning prisoners and send some to me. LeBeau, go with Carter."

"And Pierre?" LeBeau asked.

"Tonight when Helder's gone, we'll bring him to the tunnel so we can talk to him."

"Colonel," Carter hesitantly started.

"Yes, Carter?"

"Why did Newkirk say that?"

Hogan looked into Carter's troubled eyes. "Say what?"

"About the curve in the road."

Hogan stilled and Kinch looked at the floor. "He's had a rough time, Carter," Hogan slowly said. "And I don't think our Major Helder likes Newkirk. It's up to us to make sure Helder finds a new place to live."

Carter nodded. LeBeau handed Hogan a fresh cup of coffee and he nodded his thanks.

The barracks door opened. "Gutag, Colonel Hogan, Carter." Schultz waddled in with a large box. "Eh, Cockroach, I have something for you." He handed the box to LeBeau.

"What's this?"

"Some beef, vegetables."

Hogan hid his smile. Kinch and Carter smirked while LeBeau sighed. "What do you want LeBeau to make for you, Schultz?" Hogan asked.

"Nein. For the Englander."

LeBeau's eyes widened. "Newkirk's getting special food?" Carter asked. "Wow."

"Shh. I took it from the guards cooler. No one knows. A farmer sold a side of beef to the Kommandant last week."

"Why Newkirk?" Hogan asked.

Schultz looked around. "I tried to talk to Newkirk. I said I understood Gestapo food was terrible. He said he didn't get enough of it to tell. I said I would sneak you in , Colonel Hogan. He said no, no one could see him." He sighed. "Terrible, terrible. I asked why and he merely looked at the Gestapo guard following us."

"There's Gestapo still in camp?" Kinch demanded.

"Ja, ja. Just the one. He is there to stand guard with us at the cooler. He'll watch for the day. At night, Corporal Mueller will keep watch." Schultz smiled. "Like the Englander can break free. Anyway, I thought the cockroach could maybe make something soft. Newkirk's face is swollen. And that cut!" Schultz tsked.

"And you keep something for yourself?" LeBeau teased.

"Jolly joker."

"I will make us all something good."

"Danke, LeBeau. Oh, Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant is bringing in his private doctor to help in the infirmary."

Oddly touched, Hogan nodded. "Tell him thanks, Schultz."

"Ja."

"Schultz, can you tell Newkirk we said hello?" Carter blurted.

"Sure, Carter."

After he left, LeBeau looked at Hogan. "Cut?" he asked.

"He's been sliced down his cheek." Hogan's fingers clenched around his cup. "Bastards. I want Wilson to go over him tonight."

---------

Newkirk stared at the empty bowl and smiled. His little mate had outdone himself, The food had been incredible although not enough to dispel the knots in his stomach. He looked at the cooler wall, waiting, popping another painkiller while he sat on his cot. The white pills made the pain manageable, down to a dull pulse in time with his heart. Yet he couldn't sleep, couldn't relax. He closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, Colonel Hogan looked down at him. For a moment, they stared at each other.

Newkirk stood slowly, fighting back a surge of emotion. He stared into Hogan's glinting brown eyes. The taller man exhaled slowly. "Good to see you," Hogan finally said, jamming his hands in his pockets.

"You, too, gov'nor."

Hogan noted Newkirk shaking. He'd watched his corporal struggle to contain himself. Having known the Gestapo, he understood Newkirk's reaction. Yet, he had to swallow a lump in his throat at the raw emotion the cocky Brit rarely showed. Hogan slowly withdrew his hands from his pockets and gingerly hugged Newkirk. Newkirk clasped him close for a heartbeat. Then Hogan gestured flamboyantly. Newkirk smiled, retrieved a notebook, and stiffly crawled into the tunnel.

Private Wren waited for them. He grinned at Newkirk. "My doppleganger?" Newkirk asked, noting the grey jumpsuit that resembled his uniform.

"Your sleeping double." Hogan gestured and Wren scurried into the cooler. "While Mueller probably won't come in, I thought it best."

They walked down the lighted tunnel. Hogan watched Newkirk walk, an unusual stiffness in his movement. "I'm fine, gov'nor." Newkirk cocked an eyebrow.

"Wilson can check you over."

"Not needed. I'm sure 'e's bleedin' tired."

"He'll check you out." Hogan stared at the Corporal who stared innocently back. Hogan noted the shadows in his eyes, the smudged circles that underscored how weary Newkirk must be despite a day of rest in the cooler. There was an unhealthy aura around Newkirk, a slight wheeze to his speech and breathing, and Hogan was determined to get Wilson. "Come on."

"Pierre!"

LeBeau leaped up and hugged his friend. Newkirk winced and Hogan laid a hand on LeBeau's shoulder. "Easy. LeBeau. He's a little sore."

"Good to see you too, mate." Newkirk clasped LeBeau's arm. "Thanks for dinner."

"Anytime, mon ami." LeBeau looked over Newkirk's face, scowled at the vivid bruises and fresh swelling around the cut. "Dirty pigs."

"Sit over here," Hogan ordered. Newkirk sat down on a table top. Kinch grinned and came over. Newkirk grabbed his hand and pulled him into a rough hug.

"About time you wandered home."

"Had to give the Gestapo something to do," Newkirk joked. He looked around. "Andrew out blowing something up?"

"I'm here!" Carter jogged towards them. "Gosh, it's good to see you!"

Newkirk playfully swiped at him and Carter grinned, his face glowing. Everyone sat down as LeBeau handed out cocoa. "So what's Merlin's Spellbook?" Kinch asked.

Newkirk looked around. "You had the coffee pot on right?"

"Sure. We figured out it's code." Carter sipped his chocolate tentatively. "I thought it was a rocket."

"It's not code." Newkirk looked at each of his teammates. "It's Merlin's spellbook." They all looked blank. "You know, Merlin. Arthur's sorcerer chum?"

"You mean King Arthur, right?" Hogan asked.

"Like the Round Table?" Carter asked.

"Yeah. Merlin supposedly buried his spellbook before 'e was sealed in a cave and it's supposed to be in London's East End."

"You're not kidding," Kinch said slowly. "Helder wants some magic _book_?"

"You can raise the ruddy dead with it. I'd want it, too." Newkirk drank his cocoa. "It's supposed to be incredibly powerful."

"But c'est impossible! Why is Helder looking for it?" LeBeau glanced at Hogan.

Colonel Hogan crossed his arms. "Both Himmler and Goering go for this occult nonsense. It's credible." He looked at Newkirk. "How do you know about it?"

"My little sister loved to learn this stuff. My mum told 'er stories. I listened in from time to time."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Carter exclaimed.

Newkirk shrugged slightly. "So how'd you escape?" Kinch queried.

Newkirk rubbed his eyes. "It's really all thanks to you. Whoever thought to call Helder away--that was a stroke of ruddy genius. Thanks for that, gov."

"You're welcome." Hogan replied. Newkirk grinned.

"Anyway, a guard took me to see their doctor." Newkirk swallowed hard. "He gave me a poke and prod. I managed to hide away a few supplies, drugged my guard, and voila! Colonel Wolfenmeyer appears and I scoot away."

"That's it?" LeBeau asked. "You didn't find any pretty mademoiselles?"

"Blimey, mate, you travel through the doctor's horror show and see how frisky you feel." Newkirk's face paled as he moved suddenly.

"How'd you get into camp?" Hogan asked. "We all asked the other prisoners and no one recalls you on any truck."

"There were civilians," Newkirk explained. "I rode with them until I got nearer to camp. Then I walked through the woods. By the ladder, there's a briefcase and my Gestapo uniform."

"I'll get it," Carter volunteered. He left.

"You didn't tell them about the camp?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk looked insulted. "I'm not a bleedin' idiot."

"Did Helder ask about the operation at all?' Kinch asked.

Newkirk shook his head. "He just needs someone who knows London and can 'elp 'im find the book. I know what Merlin's spellbook is and that meant yours truly became Helder's new pet." He spat out the word and Hogan shifted his weight to touch Newkirk's shoulder. To his dismay, he felt Newkirk shaking.

"LeBeau, get Wilson."

"I'm all right."

"He'll be the judge of that."

Wilson appeared. "Look who's wandered home." He shooed LeBeau away from Newkirk's side and gently touched the cut cheek. "What did this?"

"Helder." Newkirk flinched as Wilson pushed gently on the cut.

"LeBeau, can you bring me warm water?" Wilson asked.

"Oui."

"I know who did this," Wilson said. "How?"

"'E didn't like my answers. So he used a palm stiletto."

Hogan tensed. Wilson waited for LeBeau and then began washing the cut. Newkirk winced but sat silently. "This is a few days old. It should have been stitched." Wilson shook his head and frowned. "You'll have a beauty of a scar. A long, narrow one."

"That's what makeup is for, mate."

"Helder did one nice thing in reopening it. It'll make it easy to stitch." He sprinkled sulfa powder over the cut, ran his fingers over Newkirk's skull and raised an eyebrow. "Hell of a knot here."

Newkirk shrugged. He winced as Wilson began stitching, perked up as Carter emerged with a bulging attaché. "Open it up, Andrew," he said. "I nicked what I thought might be good."

Carter lifted out packs of German Deustchmarks. "Holy cats, Newkirk! How much money is here?" Hogan took a pack and raised a eyebrow.

"We're rich for a while, guys," he said, rifling the bills. "What else did you get?"

"Mostly papers, files."

Carter and LeBeau began laying out the files. Kinch lifted a book. "This is a German code book," he said slowly. "Brand new."

"Helder is Gestapo, mate. And I rifled the other offices as best I could. Four Gestapo officers are at Meinstag."

"How did you do this?" Hogan demanded.

"The whole castle is riddled with passages. That's how I found the lab, the planes." He looked away. "The bodies. I followed the passages, got in the offices. Krauts don't know any of those passages. All are hidden behind bricks, movable walls and filled with spiders and webs. 'Aven't been touched in years. I roamed a bit, got a general idea of the layout."

Hogan began flipping through the files. "Lists of contacts, prisoners..." he muttered. Slowly he paled. "Newkirk, did you look through these files?"

"Somewhat, gov."

"What is it?" Carter asked.

"Lists on Nazi officers, underground groups, a list of Gestapo agents. If anyone finds out these are gone..."

"Then a firing squad is the best I can wish for. I know, Colonel. I set small fires in the offices. I 'ope that'll do the trick." He grinned as LeBeau drew out a box of cigars. "A gift for you, gov."

"What about us?" Carter asked.

"I wasn't on a ruddy shopping trip, Andrew. I grabbed some chocolate and cigarettes. Hey, Wilson, be careful."

"Stop moving then."

A jingle and Kinch lifted out a handful of dog tags. Hogan took on and rubbed the name. "Captain Winters," he read aloud.

"I brought back the dogtags since I couldn't bring back the bodies." Newkirk's eyes went dark. "So you knew I wasn't lying."

"Why would we think that?" Hogan asked.

"It's ruddy unbelievable, that's why." Newkirk gave a strained smile and Hogan put down the tags.

"All right, let's see what we've got. Let's move everything to that table over there. Wilson, he's all yours."

"What?" Newkirk blurted as Wilson straightened up.

"Thanks, Colonel."

"I'm fine!"

Hogan merely grinned and pulled a curtain across the front of the alcove. Alone, Wilson and Newkirk eyed each other. Wilson smiled. "Face is finished," he said. Newkirk sighed. He began unbuttoning his shirt. Wilson's eyes narrowed as Newkirk's hands shook. Newkirk slid off the shirt, placing it carefully aside, and Wilson whistled. Bruises overflowed Newkirk's arms from wrist to shoulder, intense purple, black, and bluish spots. "And here I thought your face was bad. Take off your other shirt."

"No."

Wilson blinked. "Don't be an ass. Take off your shirt."

"I said no. I'm fine."

Wilson ground his teeth. "That's an order, Corporal."

"Then I'm disobeying."

"Damn it, Newkirk!"

Newkirk glared at Wilson. "I can't ruddy well take off my shirt!"

"Give me one reason why not!"

"Because it bloody hurts!"

Wilson stared at Newkirk. Newkirk's gaze held his and then the Englishman looked down. Wilson lightly touched Newkirk's shoulder and walked around the table. Unbelievably he reached out. Newkirk's shirt adhered to his back, coated with watery blood, dirt, and other fluids. The Corporal shuddered as his fingers skimmed his back. Cautiously Wilson lifted the edge of the shirt and tentatively tugged.

Newkirk yanked away. "Not a bleedin' chance, mate!" He looked over his shoulder, eyes wild and rimmed with white. Wilson nodded and came back to the front of the table. He carefully cut off the front of shirt and growled. Newkirk's chest and abdomen bore layers of bruising.

"How are you walking?!"

When he neared Newkirk's back, Newkirk went rigid and swatted Wilson's hands away. "I'm going to soak your back," Wilson said. "I'm going to try to soften the adhesions."

"Just be careful, mate."

As a warm, wet towel soaked Newkirk's back, Wilson patted Newkirk's shoulder. "I'll be right back." Newkirk nodded.

Hogan looked up as Wilson stalked his way. The medic's face was set and he looked at his CO, eyes blazing. "I need your help," he said, voice shaking. He looked at the other three men sitting around the table. "And you, too, Kinch."

"What's wrong?" Hogan asked.

"He's been beaten almost to death." Everyone's face tightened. "And I need you and Kinch to hold him down while I treat his back. I don't have morphine left. Do we have alcohol?"

"Oui, some wine, some whiskey."

"Whiskey, please." LeBeau nodded and darted off.

"Can I help?" Carter asked.

"I don't think you want to see this, Carter." Wilson looked at Hogan.

"Peter's my friend!"

Wilson sighed and nodded. Hogan stood and went to Newkirk. The Englishman sat on the edge of the table, head hanging, breathing hard. Hogan's lips tightened and he felt the color drain from his face as his gaze ran over Newkirk. There was little unmarred skin on Newkirk's chest or arms. Black and purple covered his ribs. Newkirk lifted his head as if sensing his CO's presence. Surprisingly Newkirk straightened up, pushed off his aura of pain, and looked Hogan directly in the eyes. "Just a little sore, gov'nor. Nothing much." He grinned weakly. "Krauts got some good fists, I'll give them that."

Hogan glanced at Wilson and Kinch as they approached. Carter followed. "You look like hell," Kinch stated, eyes widening.

"Gosh, Newkirk, let me get you some aspirin!"

"Oh, Andrew, you don't need to see this," Newkirk stammered. "Why's everyone here?"

"I'm going to need them." Wilson spun a clean towel into a "rope". LeBeau appeared and Wilson poured a glass of whiskey. "Drink it down, Newkirk. I don't have any morphine." Newkirk's eyes widened.

"What are you planning on doing? I'll be fine, mate! Gov'nor, you can't let him..."

"Just drink," Wilson insisted. The Englishman swallowed the whiskey, gaze flicking around the tunnel. Hogan understood immediately and motioned to his men. Almost imperceptibly they fanned out, cutting off any escape in case Newkirk bolted. "Lay down, Newkirk."

"Not a chance!"

"Newkirk."

Hogan's voice, soft as it was, bore an unmistakable command. Newkirk glared at his Colonel but laid down. Wilson shoved the towel "rope" in Newkirk's mouth and gagged him quickly. "Sorry, Newkirk," he said. "This is going to hurt." He gestured to Hogan and Kinch. Hogan held down Newkirk's arms and Kinch took his legs. Wilson removed the towel and Hogan tried to peer at the extent of the damage. Wilson made a fast ripping gesture.

Newkirk screamed and violently twisted, thrashing savagely. Carter helped Kinch as Newkirk began rising off the table. Hogan leaned forward, pressing down on Newkirk's arms carefully, hoping to avoid causing more harm. There was disturbing strength in Newkirk's panic. Wilson raised an antiseptic bottle and looked at Hogan and Kinch. "Hang on."

The smell of medicine filled the air as Wilson poured on Newkirk's back. Newkirk almost levitated off the table and he howled in the gag, squirming and lashing. "Pass out, damn you," Hogan heard Wilson whisper.

Warmth splashed Hogan's hands. He looked at Newkirk, not surprised to see tears streaming down the pallid cheeks. "It'll be over in a minute," he whispered. As seconds passed, the tension left Newkirk's body and the screams died to whimpers. Newkirk sagged onto the table. Wilson unknotted the gag and it fell to the floor.

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau leaped away from the table, covering his mouth. Hogan leaned over Newkirk's shoulder. He released Newkirk's arms and stepped to Wilson's side. The medic glanced at him, face grim. Hogan froze, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Lash marks latticed Newkirk's back. Sluggishly oozing gouges gaped, raw red wounds amid bruised flesh. Fresh blood dripped from newly broken scabs. Hogan outstretched a trembling hand, touched Newkirk's shoulder. "It's not so bad, gov," came a faint whisper.

"What's it take to knock you out?" Wilson exclaimed.

Newkirk struggled to sit up. Carter took his arm and helped him to a seating position, face ashen. Kinch took his other arm. Newkirk looked at his Colonel, ignoring Wilson. Hogan stared down at Newkirk. "Sorry 'bout this, gov," Newkirk mumbled.

"This is not your fault!" Hogan's anger flashed then disappeared as Newkirk flinched. "God, Newkirk, what the hell did Helder want?!"

"'E calls it training." Newkirk quirked his lips. "Me old man always said I was a bit stubborn." He looked over his shoulder, tried to peer down his own back. "Got to admit, Helder leaves his mark."

"Very funny. What did he want?"

"Wanted a detailed map of London's East Side. I told him the truth. He should buy a guide book."

Hogan fought back a surge of bile and fury. _I would have done the same thing. "_What can you do, Wilson?"

"Clean, debride the wounds, put sulfa powder on the marks." He shook his head. "I'd love some penicillin."

"No stitching?"

"Not possible. The gouges would simply pull apart. Scar tissue will simply have to fill in the wounds."

"I'm all right," Newkirk protested.

"You're cut, beaten, and whipped. You have a touch of pneumonia, I think. You're far from all right," Wilson snarled. "How did you manage to move?"

"It 'ad to be done."

"Kinch, get hold of the Underground. Tiger mentioned they had some pencillin awhile ago. Arrange a drug rendevous. If they don't have it, call London." Newkirk looked oddly at Hogan. "Wilson, clean him up. Newkirk, we'll get you some fresh clothes."

"Thanks, gov. Louie, could you spare some more cocoa?"

"Sure, mon ami."

"Come on, Carter. Leave the doctor to his patient."

Wilson began cleaning the wounds. Newkirk watched the curtain, then looked at Wilson. "Joe, if penicillin comes in, I'm not taking it."

Wilson snorted. "If you can take a whipping, you can take a needle."

"I said no. That stuff is bleedin' rare and you're not wasting it on me."

"It prevents infection."

"I'm not getting infected."

"You can't know that."

Newkirk grabbed Wilson's arm. "Are you deaf? I'm not going to be breathing long enough to get infected!" Shocked, Wilson looked at Newkirk. Newkirk sighed. "Helder's worse than a ruddy bulldog. 'E's not letting me go." Newkirk's fingers trembled. "And Burkhalter won't let me go either. Not with what I saw." He fumbled for his shirt. "'Ere." He handed envelopes to Wilson. "Give these out when I'm gone, please." Wilson took the envelopes in shaking hands. "You've been a good mate, Joe."

"Newkirk..."

"I'm not a fool, Joe. I chose this, knowing what could 'appen." Newkirk gazed steadily. "You watch over them, all right? Especially the gov'nor."

"Peter..."

"Not another word. You know I'm right."

Wilson nodded curtly and finished treating the wounds. He placed two layers of gauze over the wounds and secured them with tape. "I'll get your clothes," he said. Newkirk nodded. As Wilson left, he pulled out his bottle of pain killers and swallowed a pill with a generous helping of whiskey.

Hogan looked at Wilson. "Is he all right? Tiger is bringing the penicillin tomorrow."

"Newkirk says he won't take it."

Hogan sighed and Kinch grinned. Carter crinkled his brow. "Why not?"

Wilson looked Hogan in the eye and he straightened, knowing something bad was coming. "He said he won't be breathing long enough to get infected."

Hogan breathed in for a moment. Then he walked to the curtain and pulled it aside. Newkirk looked at him with an unreadable look on his face. The smell of whiskey filled the air, tinged with the smell of blood and idoine. They regarded each other and Hogan leaned against the wall. "Helder's never going to be able to hide what he's done," he casually said.

"I know."

"You'll be assigned here."

Newkirk gazed at him. "This isn't a fairy tale, mate." His voice was soft yet steeled with determination. "Neither Helder nor Burkhalter will let me live and you know that, gov." He breathed. "It's been a good run. I 'ave no regrets."

"You can't just give up!" Carter blurted as he came over with Kinch and LeBeau. Newkirk looked at him then away. "We need you!"

"Andrew, you'll be all right." Newkirk looked at Hogan. "And there are others who can take my place."

"Quoi?" LeBeau spat. "What other thief-safecracker-forger-magician-actor-tailor do we have?"

"There are people 'ere, Louie. Some can sew and the gov'nor and Kinch here speak German like natives. Wilkins can forge and Andrew is a great actor."

"Not one can tailor like you and none can safecrack and Wilkins can forge only half as good," Kinch said. "You're being ridiculous, Peter. We can get rid of Helder."

"Heck, yeah. This will be a piece of pie compared to blowing up bridges."

"Cake, Carter," Hogan corrected.

"He's not going to be fobbed off!" Newkirk pulled on a clean shirt slowly, a choked whimper escaping his lips. Carter helped him. "Helder will never let me go."

Hogan watched Newkirk's hands as they shook, trying to button his shirt. Wilson pushed down his hands and finished the job. "I'm hurt. I thought you trusted me, Peter," Hogan said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Newkirk's gaze flew to him, eyes filled with such feeling Hogan immediately regretted his humor. "I trust you, gov," he rasped. He visibly shook himself, pulled himself under control, and tossed Hogan the notebook. "Meinstag. As best as I can remember. Drew it today. 'Elps pass the time in the cooler."

"We can beat this, mon ami." LeBeau lightly squeezed Newkirk's arm. Newkirk looked down at his friend.

"Louie, it's been incredible. Thanks for everything, little mate." He then looked at Andrew. "All of you."

"We're not giving up!" Andrew said passionately.

"Andrew, it's not that easy!"

"What else is it, Newkirk?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk sagged. "There's four dead Gestapo and the doctor. They're going to need explaining. No one is going let that go."

"You had a shoot out?" Kinch asked.

Newkirk shook his head and straightened up. "I shot them." Carter jerked and Newkirk looked at him. "Yes, I ruddy executed them. I couldn't think of another way."

"You wouldn't do that," Carter protested. "Not in cold blood."

"I did it. And if I 'ad to, I'd do it again." He looked at Carter.

Carter whirled and left. LeBeau looked at Newkirk and shook his head. "I don't blame you, mon ami, but executed?"

He left and Kinch followed. Hogan gazed at Newkirk who watched his friends leave.

"As long as you're safe," he whispered. He looked back at Hogan. Hogan jerked his head at Wilson and the medic left. Hogan paced a few feet, arms across his chest.

"Want to tell me the rest?" he asked.


	7. Chapter 7

"There were civilians. I couldn't think of another way to let them go. The guards knew them, seen me." Newkirk sighed. "Sorry, gov'nor."

"Newkirk, I'm..."

"Don't you dare say you're sorry." Newkirk stared at Hogan. "I'm a volunteer! An' these people needed to be set free."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you sooner, that I couldn't help."

Newkirk's eyes widened. "Couldn't help? Blimey, gov, how do you think I did this? You showed me how. I wouldn't 'ave gotten as far as I did without you. I kept thinking about how you would 'andle this. I'm sorry this mess occurred."

"Why didn't you go to London?'

Newkirk jerked. "Had to get the word to you! And the other men had to go somewhere, mate. I didn't expect Helder to be 'ere, at least not already."

"So you came back thinking you were going to die?"

Newkirk smiled slightly. "Like I said, I 'ad a good run." He smiled wider. "It's been a honor, sir."

"It isn't over yet." Hogan battled his emotions, exhaled deeply. Newkirk moved and winced. Hogan grabbed his arm. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

Newkirk nodded. Hogan followed him to the cooler, ready to grab him in case he fell. Newkirk moved in a determined, stiff manner. "I'm not a bloomin' invalid, gov'nor."

"Go to sleep, Newkirk. By the way, I know what you're doing. I'm grateful but stop trying to protect everyone. That's my job, remember?"

Newkirk watched Wren and Hogan leave. _And who protects you, gov'nor? That's __**my **__job. I just wish you could pull another rabbit out of your 'at and save me. But if my dying saves you, the others, and the operation, I'll die with only one regret, that I won't be there to watch your back anymore._

Wilson squeezed Carter's shoulder. "Carter, he was in a jam. He did what he had to do."

"And why is he so willing to giving up?" Carter asked. "He just doesn't care!"

"Andrew, he wants everyone to be protected." Wilson rubbed his eyes. "And he's been through hell." Carter shrugged. Wilson sighed and pulled an envelope from his pocket. "Here. Newkirk told me to give you this if he was taken by Helder. Do NOT ever tell him I gave this to you."

Andrew opened the letter.

_Dear Andrew,_

_If you got this, it means Helder won. Don't you worry about old Peter. I'll be all right, no matter where I end up. You keep blowing stuff up and following the gov'nor. _

_I'm going to miss you, Andrew. We had some bloody good times and that's what I want you to remember. Not the fights, not the blood, but the way the moon sparkles on the snow, and that deer we almost fell over. Or the way fireworks light the sky. I may have given you guff but you're the best at what you do. _

_Trust those instincts, Andrew. You've a good heart and that's bloody rare in this world. I know you'll miss me and that touches me more than I ever let on. After all, who else is going to miss me other than my mates? Finish this war and go home, Andrew. Find yourself a bird that loves you like you love her and show other people how bright the world can really be._

_I got some requests for you. First, keep up with those crazy ideas. You're like the gov'nor, you think up schemes that may seem insane but could actually work. Don't give up on that. Second and most important, trust yourself. You think too little of yourself. You're bloody good, Andrew. Don't let anyone tell you different, not even me. You're steady, good hearted, and play a vital role on this team. Your sunniness may have made me groan outside but always made me smile inside. And the others need that just as much as I did. Keep it up._

_ I'm not good at emotion, Andrew, never have been. I never had a little brother until I met you. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Keep your chin up and think of me once in a while._

_Your brother,_

_Peter _

LeBeau watched Carter blink and fold a letter carefully. "I'm going to the tunnels," Carter said.

"Are you all right?" LeBeau asked.

"Sure, LeBeau, I just have to be alone a second." He hurried off and LeBeau looked at Wilson.

"What is wrong with Andre?" Wilson squirmed.

"Newkirk wrote him a letter," Wilson replied. "Just in case."

LeBeau's face fell. "Pierre wrote Andre a letter?"

Wilson groaned and handed LeBeau a letter. His face lit and he scurried to his bunk. Wilson shook his head and went to find Kinch and Hogan.

_Dear Louis,_

_See, I can get your ruddy name right! If Wilson gave you this, you probably watched Helder or the Gestapo drag me off. Control yourself, little mate. I volunteered for this, remember? I always wondered how I'd go and you know, this wasn't the worst. _

_I know you probably think I'm an idiot and you and I have had our shares of blow ups. But we always knew we were mates, ruddy good ones at that. Sometimes it was nice to talk to another European amidst all these Yanks. I shared things with you I never shared with anyone else. You and I were mates long before the others came, because we were first here. You helped me survive, Louie, and if I never thanked you before, I'm thanking you now. _

_I'm no good at this emotion, feeling stuff. You're so passionate about France and all you believe in. Never lose that, mate. Never. You and all those like you will take back your country and when this bleeding war ends, you'll need that energy to rebuild France. You can do it, Louie. I know you can._

_I have a few requests for you. First, watch out for the team, ok? I won't be there to poke holes in crazy ideas and someone needs to think rationally around here. Second, take a breath now and then and take a step back if you have to. You're too much like me sometimes, ready to rush in and not look around. I'm not asking you to change, just pause a moment or two. Third, when this war is over, visit jolly old England for me and lift a pint in my name. Then go home and build yourself a life just as if the bleedin' Krauts never touched France. Hug your family close._

_You used to ask a little about my family. I never had much, only my two sisters and a brother I haven't seen in years. Who thought I'd find my one of my closest brothers in a POW camp? And a Frenchie to boot? You take care of yourself, mon frere, and when you're cuddling some sweet mademoiselle, give her a kiss for me._

_Your best mate and brother,_

_Peter (or Pierre if you want)_

LeBeau ran his fingers over the letter_. You may not be very good at emotion but you did very well, indeed, Pierre. And Helder wouldn't get his hands on you. We are going to save you._

Wilson walked through the table and handed Kinch an envelope. "What's this?" Kinch asked.

"Just don't tell Newkirk," Wilson snorted. "Where's Colonel Hogan?"

"Here," Hogan said. He looked weary. Wilson handed him a letter. "Now what?"

"Just read. Carter and LeBeau have theirs."

Kinch opened the letter.

_Dear James,_

_Funny how we don't use your first name. Not that we use first names much at all. And that's all right. Since you got this, you've watched or know Helder took me away and I'm not coming back. You've taken it with your usual calm while inside you're angrier than Hell. I always envied you that calm._

_Me and you--people thought we were way too different to ever be friends. They're wrong. You're a damn fine mate and I could only wish to be more like you. Where I ran my mouth without thinking, you always listened and planned. You have the rotten job of waiting here and controlling us when the gov'nor is gone. If no one ever says so, thanks for that. It's a job I wouldn't wish on the Krauts, much less a friend like you._

_I'm ruddy horrible at this sharing stuff. Sure I talk a lot but I don't say much. Me mum used to say I chattered like a squirrel. Your serenity, your sense of humor--I'm going to miss that. Hang on to them. And maybe let yourself go a little. Have some fun once in a while, Kinch. Play cards with Schultz, tease Andrew a bit. This war can't last forever. Horse around a little. I know you can smile, mate, just do it more often. _

_I have a few favours to ask. You and gov'nor work wonders together and you're his right hand man. Here's where I'm asking you the hard part, mate. I'm not there anymore. So be his left hand man, too, Kinch. Dare him. Challenge him so he can keep thinking up those great, wild ideas. You've always listen to the gov. Keep doing that but shake him up now and then. I'm not asking you to switch, not really. Just expand a little. Play you're me, once in a while. Second, keep believing. This team pulls off miracles daily and you're vital to that. Andrew may be clumsy and Louis a hothead but they'll give you everything and then some. Just like you. You're our ruddy brother whether you like it or not, so after the war, don't forget about us. _

_Last, go play ball once in a while. I know you like it. Drag the ruddy Colonel to his drums, Andrew to some fireworks or a petting zoo, and Louis to a French movie. And you hit a ball. Finish the war and teach your kids to play catch. My own older brother I haven't seen in years. I'm glad to find one in you. Take care, Kinch._

_Your brother, _

_Peter_

Hogan sat on his bunk, head aching. One of his men, tortured, abused, and not even for information. Just for the power pleasure of a sadistic bastard. He opened his letter

_Dear Rob,_

_Ha! Knew that'd get your attention, gov'nor! If you have this, well, knowing you, you've watched me disappear with Helder, and now you're hiding in your quarters, blaming yourself and wondering what you did wrong. Ease your mind, mate. There's NOTHING you could have done. I chose this path, gov'nor, and I'm going willingly._

_Well, maybe not willingly but without regrets._

_I don't know how to tell you all you should know. Gov'nor, I trust you with my life and you haven't ever given me cause to doubt that. You and I clashed a lot and I know you had to wonder if it was worth it, especially in the beginning. I never meant disrespect, gov'nor, just--well, someone has to challenge you, mate, and no one else stepped up to the plate. So that meant me and admit it, it suited me. You're the only officer I follow because I want to. I'm rotten with telling you things, feeling wise and all that. You know that because you're just about as bad. Just so you know, challenge Hell itself and I'll be there beside you. _

_Gov'nor, you've always had faith in us. Keep that. Keep yourself believing because you're fighting the good fight and it is going to end. You have a rotten job and you do what no one else can come close to. I know you hated being grounded. Selfishly, I'm ruddy glad you got shot down. War wouldn't be the same without you. _

_Just a few things, Colonel. First, become a little selfish. I know, I know, you think of us. But remember, we're not just doing this for country and the good fight. We do this because of __**you**__. You're the one who's done all the hard work and you are not replaceable. So have a little fun. Watch out for yourself as well as the others. You're needed, mate, and without someone to watch your back, you're vulnerable. Even leaders need a break now and then._

_Second, stop blaming yourself. Everyone makes mistakes and you're allowed, gov'nor. You can't be perfect, no one can. So when plans twist in on themselves, just realize that's because they do. It's not your fault. Don't hold stuff against yourself that you would forgive us for. And I know officers are told to never relax with their men, to keep that "command distance". I hereby give you permission, mate. It's all right to be human, to simply be with your family here. No one will respect you less. You're my brother, gov'nor. Don't forget that. So if you really want to remember me, play the ruddy drums for me once in a while. _

_You've always been the one with the faith. I never could wrap my mind or heart around all that religious natter and I envied your peace with that. But if there is another side, if I get a choice, I'll always be there, covering your back. So keep believing, gov'nor. When this war is over, go home and live. And when you see the stars, think of me now and then._

_Your brother and all around scoundrel and mate,_

_Peter_

Hogan read the letter three times before carefully tucking it into his Bible, the one his mother had given him. While hardly religious, he found peace in the familiar words. He looked at the clock. 1200 hours. He quietly opened the door. In the dark barracks, he saw LeBeau tending the stove and making a pot of coffee. He looked around. "Where are Carter and Kinch?" he whispered.

"Tunnel," LeBeau replied softly.

Hogan went to the bunk and LeBeau followed him with coffee and a basket. They went into the tunnel and Carter appeared. "Colonel, we can't let Newkirk die."  
"We're not going to."

LeBeau grinned. "Good," he exclaimed.

"I'm in," Kinch said, coming in. He looked in the basket. "Rolls?"

"Oui. I was bored."

"So let's figure out some plans," Hogan said, snagging a roll.

As they talked, LeBeau said "I'm actually surprised Pierre is so ready to give up. He never stops fighting."

"The Gestapo does that," Hogan grimly said. "Helder's not getting him again."

The group fell silent. "Is he going to be all right?" Carter asked quietly.

Hogan looked at his men. _Challenge Hell itself and I'll be there beside you._ "Yes," Hogan promised. "He needs us but he'll be fine."

Carter beamed.

"Achtung!"

Newkirk groaned as the Gestapo guard rattled the bars. "Sod off, Fritzie."

"Achtung, swinehund!" Newkirk jerked as the guard began opening the door.

"Ruddy 'ell." Newkirk winced as he sat up.

"Nein!" came a yell. "The Englander is to be left alone!" Schultz stomped into view. As he and the Gestapo guard argued, Newkirk sat up and stretched. His back blazed to life and he reached for his pain pills. The Gestapo guard left and Schultz looked at Newkirk. "I have breakfast, Newkirk."  
"No thanks, Schultz. You can have it."

"Colonel Hogan said you had to eat and LeBeau made me swear to watch. It's strudel, Newkirk."

Newkirk reached for the plate. He picked at the food and rolled his eyes. A small note rested on the plate which simply read _Eat, mon ami_. He picked up his fork and began eating. As he ate, he swallowed a painkiller and looked at Schultz. "Have another notebook, Schultz? I'm bored."

Schultz handed him a notebook. Newkirk began sketching lazily, taking it slow and easy. As he'd sketched Meinstag already, he simply drew for the pleasure of it. Schultz occasionally popped by and Newkirk waved now and then. He rarely drew, didn't consider it art, just scribbles. As he sketched, Schultz brought his lunch. "Come, Newkirk," Schultz ordered. Newkirk came to the door and took the tray. "Can I see?" Schultz asked.

Newkirk shrugged. "Knock yourself out. I'm a bit knackered anyway."

In the barracks, LeBeau peeled potatoes while Carter assisted. Hogan stepped into the barracks, shaking snow off his shoulders. "Kinch down below?"

"Oui, mon Colonel."

"Carter, Gestapo truck rigged?"

"You betcha, boy! Er, sir."

"Olson and Baker ready just in case?"

"Yes," LeBeau replied. The bunk lifted and Kinch stepped up from the tunnel. He banged on the bunk and the bed fell back down.

"Underground contacted us. Tiger has the penicillin, Colonel. Said she will be here tonight."

"That's fine."

"Schultz is coming," Carter said as he heard footsteps. Hogan turned as Schultz came into the barracks.

"Brrr! The cooler is warmer," Schultz complained, standing near the stove. He absently handed his rifle to LeBeau and rubbed his hands together.

"How's Newkirk?" Carter eagerly asked.

"The Englander spends his time scribbling. See?"

Hogan flipped through the notebook. "Newkirk did this?" he blurted. A delicate fawn stood under a flowering tree, a cart horse clopped past Stalag 13, the team played cards with Hogan leaning back in his chair. There was Lewis Carroll's White Rabbit studying his watch and a clever little mouse watching LeBeau cook. LeBeau looked over and grinned.

"It's Carter's mouse," he said.

"Felix?"

Carter looked at the picture. "Hey, that's really good! And he's got everyone playing cards."

"I didn't know Newkirk could draw," Kinch said.

"He does not like to let people know," LeBeau remarked, handing Schultz a mug of coffee. "He did it a bit when we were first here."

"Danke, cockroach. I like the rabbit in clothes." He drank his coffee slowly, savoring each swallow.  
"The White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland," Hogan commented.

"My kinder would like that. I better go before the big shot finds me here." He looked around and Carter handed him his rifle. "Danke." Then he retrieved the notebook and left.

Hogan watched him leave. "Why doesn't Newkirk like anyone to know?"

LeBeau shrugged. "He calls them scribbles. I'm surprised he let Schultz see them. Don't let him know you saw them."

Hogan retrieved the Meinstag notebook and sat down, flipping through it. "He's drawn great pictures."

"Why isn't he drawing our maps?" Carter asked incredulously.

"Cartography isn't art, Carter. What he could be doing is sketching layouts and weapons," Hogan said.

"That's why we take photos, Colonel," Kinch said.

"But this could come in useful." Hogan winced at a depiction of a skull, carefully labeled. Black lines consolidated into a sketch of a bare ballroom, a gaping hole indicating a passageway. A long whip hung neatly coiled on the wall. "Carter, get Wilson."

"Yes, sir."

"Problems, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"Just confirming a theory."

Wilson came into the barracks. "Colonel?"

"Those marks on Newkirk's back," Hogan mused. "It was a whip, right?"

Wilson nodded. "I'm pretty sure. I haven't seen such marks before."

"They'll heal, right?" Carter asked, coming in behind him.

"They'll scar but yeah, they'll heal."

LeBeau muttered something in French. Hogan eyed him. "Don't worry, LeBeau. Helder is going to pay." He felt a wave of fury begin filling him. _You tortured my man for nothing. Just to prove you can, to break him. Well, Major, paybacks are Hell. _ He turned to Wilson. "The other men?"

"A few broken bones, lots of bruising, a couple concussions, but no one as bad as Newkirk."

"No one else has Newkirk's mouth," Kinch murmured, eyes glinting with humor and affection. Wilson grinned.

"That's our Newkirk." He looked at Hogan. "We are going to rescue him despite himself, right?"

"Yes," Hogan replied. "Where else will we find a thief-safecracker-forger-tailor-artist?"

Everyone smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

Schultz walked back to the cooler, speeding up as he heard what sounded like firecrackers. As he hurried back into the cooler, he spotted the Gestapo guard cracking a long whip against the cooler wall. White marks showed where the lash peeled away paint. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Just practicing" the guard replied. "Major Helder ordered me to drill daily."

Schultz snorted and looked around. The Englander sat on his cot, watching them with a white face. "Come, Newkirk, the Kommandant says you can walk the compound under guard."

"That's all right, Schultz. Maybe later."

"Here is your notebook."

The Gestapo guard yanked the book from Schultz. "Hey!" Newkirk blurted. The guard leafed through the book and snorted.

"Here, fraulien," he sneered, tossing the book to Newkirk. "Little girl drawings."

"That is not nice," Schultz blustered. "The drawings are very good."

"It's OK. I just scribble now and then." Schultz watched the Gestapo leave. Newkirk handed him the notebook. "'Ere, Schultz, I don't feel much like drawing anymore."

"They are very gut, Newkirk."

"They're just scribbling." He touched his cut cheek. "Maybe later." He handed his empty trays to Schultz and laid down on his cot.

Schultz watched him briefly then went to see Hogan again.

"Colonel Hogan!"

Schultz walked to Hogan. Hogan turned, tossed a baseball to Kinch. "What is it, Schultz ?"

"Can you hold this for the Englander? He is tired of drawing." Schultz rolled his eyes. "The Gestapo is busy practicing with his whip. I think it bothers Newkirk." He handed Hogan the notebook.

"The Gestapo guard carries a whip?"

"Ja. Major Helder's order."

Hogan fought an urge to storm the cooler and throttle the guard. Kinch sauntered over, sensing his CO's anger. "What's up, Colonel?"

"Major Helder's guard is practicing with a whip." Hogan began walking the compound. "Helder's good. Even not here, he's here."

"Newkirk doesn't rattle easily."

Hogan crossed his arms. "I don't know. LeBeau's right, Newkirk doesn't stop fighting. This giving in to Helder's abuse isn't like him."

"He was whipped, Colonel. I wouldn't be too feisty either."

"Remind me to send Major Helder a bill, Kinch."

"For what?"

"He broke one of my men." Hogan's eyes blazed. "And we have to put him back together." Kinch nodded. Hogan thought a minute. "Can you and the boys make a distraction?"

"When?"

"Ten minutes."

Hogan walked through the tunnel until he was behind the cooler entrance. He checked his watch. Eight minutes down. He waited two minutes and pushed open the block. Newkirk sat on his cot, glaring at him. "What are you doing?!" Newkirk spat. "I didn't volunteer for the cooler just so you could blow it by talking to me! Blimey, gov'nor, Helder will skin you!"

"I wondered why you pushed to be put in here." Hogan crept in and stood. "How are you doing?"

"Fine." Newkirk watched him and the hallway. "Back's a bit tender."

"Schultz says your Gestapo buddy is practicing his lion tamer moves." Newkirk shrugged. Hogan watched him carefully, noticing the sunken, bloodshot eyes and slumped shoulders. _Last night must have been Hell. _Newkirk avoided his gaze. "I don't get it, Newkirk. You're usually the first one to open your mouth."

"In case you haven't noticed, I have an admirer." Newkirk jerked his head. "Gov, we can talk tonight. Scarper back to the barracks. _Now_." He pushed his CO towards the tunnel. Hogan nodded and slid into the tunnel. Behind the stone, he heard Newkirk cheerily greet someone. "Hiya, Fritz, how's life in the Gestapo?"

"Vile dog," a voice spat.

"'Ow about another animal there? Nothing against dogs but there are other animals."

"Major Helder will have you begging to heel."

"Begging or heeling? Pick a trick there. Can't do both at once."

"You yap too much. The last yapper Major Helder had lost his tongue."

"Can't tell you much without a tongue, Fritzie."

"The doctor was right. You should be chained and leashed."

"'eard the doc ran into a little trouble."

There was a burst of German profanity and Newkirk's quick response. "I don't speak Kraut. Speak a civilized language, Fritzie."

_Newkirk, shut up!_

There was a smash of iron bars and a scrabble of feet. "Remember your place," a voice growled.

Hogan listened to receding footsteps. Carefully he pushed the block and peered inside. Newkirk sat on his bunk, head in his hands and shaking. _He's running on absolutely nothing. He needs to sleep without the threat of Helder. He needs us. _Without looking up, Newkirk reached and fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a bottle. He swallowed a pill hurriedly and looked at the wall.

"What are you doing?" Newkirk hissed.

"Heard you playing with our favorite Gestapo guard. Just be careful."

Newkirk gave him a cocky smile. "Always."

"I didn't know Wilson gave you drugs."

Newkirk looked innocently at him. "Would I take anything Wilson didn't give me?"

Hogan snorted. "In a minute. Hand it over."

Newkirk gazed at him and pulled out the bottle. "I need them," he reluctantly said.

"You need some sleep."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Yes, mum."

Hogan grinned and left.

In the barracks, he spotted Wilson and tossed him the bottle. "Check these out, Wilson."

"Where'd you get these?"

"Newkirk's been taking them."

"Great. He's probably been sleeping bad too." Hogan nodded. "This is a painkiller that's also a stimulant. He probably hasn't slept in days."

Hogan paused. "Do we have any sedatives?"

"Coming with Tiger." Wilson grinned. "I'll fill the syringe personally."

That night Tiger smiled at the team. "I hear you have your man back," she said.

"Oui," LeBeau exclaimed.

"Is he well?"

"He will be," Carter replied. "The Colonel said he'll be fine."

Tiger smiled at Hogan. "And if Colonel Hogan says so, it must be."

Hogan shrugged with a self deprecating smile. Kinch turned as Newkirk appeared. "'Ello, luv," Newkirk said brightly.

"Welcome home." Tiger gave Newkirk a hug and kissed both cheeks.

"This is a bleedin' good farewell gift." Newkirk said, holding Tiger close.

"You are leaving?" Tiger asked, gently disentangling.

"No," Hogan said. "He only thinks so."

Newkirk sat down and LeBeau handed him a cup of coffee. "We know you have escaped Meinstag," Tiger said. "Did you meet White Rabbit when you were there?"

Newkirk jerked. "Who?"

"White Rabbit," Tiger repeated. "He freed an Underground unit." All the men looked at Newkirk.

"I 'ad to use something," Newkirk blurted. "White Rabbit was the only name I could think of."

Hogan chuckled. "Now what?" LeBeau demanded.

"You freed an Underground unit?" Carter asked. "Gosh, isn't that something? We didn't even know there was a unit there!"

"'Old on mate. I simply ordered everyone onto trucks. The Underground team--that's just fringe benefits." He shifted in his seat. "I'm no ruddy 'ero."

"I beg to differ," Tiger said. She smiled. "Noir, Rue, Estelle, and Soliel all call you hero." She arched an eyebrow. "May I borrow your man, mon Colonel? I won't take him far."

Hogan shrugged. A baffled Newkirk followed Tiger about fifty feet down the tunnels. Tiger looked at him and smiled again. "Merci beaucoup, White Rabbit," she breathed. "I have known Rue for several years. You have saved her and her brother and I will always be grateful."

She kissed him and Newkirk felt his heart race. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. "Tiger, I'm flattered beyond belief," he quietly said. "And I'm right crazy to be doing this. But I've never been the one you 'ad your eye on."

Tiger drew back, crimson staining her cheeks. "I beg your pardon, " she murmured.

"It's all right, luv. There's not a bird around who doesn't look at the Colonel. Not being a bird, I don't rightly understand the attraction but that's the way it is." He smiled wistfully. "'Sides, your great passion is France." He shuffled his feet. "After the war, if you and the Colonel don't click, you should look up Louie. You're a lot alike."

Tiger touched his cut cheek. "And you will find someone who looks at no one but you," she said softly. "You deserve that."

"That's a nice thought but not my future, luv." Newkirk smiled sadly. "Did the family get away?"

"Oui. They are all safe." Tiger smiled at his grin. She kissed his cheek. "Merci again."

"You're welcome. Come on before the team thinks I kidnapped you."

Newkirk inwardly squirmed as the men looked at him and Tiger. "Roll up your sleeve," Hogan ordered. Newkirk stared at him as Hogan raised a needle and syringe.

"Colonel, I told you no. When Helder takes me..."

"Newkirk, shut up and roll up your sleeve," Hogan sighed. "Now."  
Newkirk narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth. LeBeau and Kinch grabbed each arm and Carter rolled up his sleeve. Hogan rubbed a spot with an alcohol dipped cloth and shoved the needle in. Newkirk winced. "Ow! You're a ruddy awful nurse, gov'nor!"

"That's because I'm not one," Hogan said. He withdrew the needle. "If Helder asks about the stitches, say you've been seen by Klink's doctor. Thanks, Tiger."

"My pleasure, Colonel."

Newkirk looked at his friends. "You can let me go," he said.

"Not quite yet," Hogan said. "Carter?"

Carter handed Hogan another, smaller syringe. "What's that?" Newkirk demanded.

"Just a little thing to help you sleep, mon ami," LeBeau coaxed.

"No!" Newkirk tried to jerk away. "I'm not a ruddy infant."

Hogan slid the needle in quickly. Newkirk thrashed violently but finally drooped, eyes glazing. "Sorry, old chap," Hogan sighed. "Doctor's orders." Kinch carried Newkirk to a bunk and covered him carefully, placing him on his side.

Hogan looked at Tiger. "He tell you anything?"

"Non. He is downhearted as you say, tres miserable." She lifted her hands helplessly. "Noir said he was ill. He certainly seems that way. He is badly hurt, no?"

"Helder worked him over pretty hard," Hogan said.

"The cut?" Tiger touched her cheek. Hogan nodded. "Soliel mentioned Helder likes knives."

"Couchon," LeBeau muttered.

"There is an ammunition train coming next week. Will you and your men be able to take care of it?"

"You bet," Carter exclaimed. "We can send it sky high!"

"Easy, Carter," Kinch said.

Hogan's gaze went to Newkirk. "We'll do it, Tiger. Newkirk may be a little slow but we'll do it."

"Au revoir then. I will get the coordinates."

"I'll escort you out," Hogan said. LeBeau and Kinch rolled their eyes. Tiger and Hogan walked into the woods a little way from the tree stump. Tiger kissed Hogan deeply.

"Take care of yourself, mon Colonel. You and your men are very special."

Hogan watched her slip away like her namesake. He licked his lips and headed back into the camp.


	9. Chapter 9

Sunlight gleamed on black as General Burkhalter's car came into Stalag 13. Hogan motioned to Kinch. "This is it. Make sure Baker and Olson are ready."

"You got it."

LeBeau and Carter came to Hogan's side. Helder stepped out of the car as Klink hurried to the General. "Where is my dog, Klink?" Helder snapped.

"I don't recall you leaving any pets, Major."

"I mean the Englander! Bring him immediately!"

Hogan strode forward, feeling his men following. "Wait a minute, Kommandant! I want to know what this man wants with Corporal Newkirk."

"He is my prisoner!"

"He was lying?" Klink asked Burkhalter. "He seemed so truthful."

"About what?" Hogan asked.

"Nothing, Colonel Hogan, your man made a mistake." Burkhalter smiled. "Klink, have the Corporal brought to your office. Hogan, you may come with us."

Hogan swiped cigars as the German officers moved around. A flash of grey and Newkirk was dragged into the office by the Gestapo guard. He looked at Burkhalter then at Helder. He turned his gaze to Hogan. A tiny smile quirked his lips. "'Ello there, gov."

"Good to see you, Newkirk." _At least he slept. He looks more alive._

"He looks all right," Helder groused. "I will take my prisoner and go, herr General." He looked at Newkirk. "You will pay for your lies, English."

"I didn't lie."

"You simply made some mistakes, Corporal." Burkhalter leaned back. "There were a few dead prisoners but no mass killings." Hogan tensed slightly and Newkirk nodded slowly.

Helder grabbed Newkirk's collar. "Let's go, mutt."

Newkirk looked calmly at Hogan. "'Bye, gov'nor." _Thank you for all you did._

"Just a minute, Major Helder. I said I'd give you the Corporal if he lied. He was merely mistaken. You have another assignment," Burkhalter said, smiling superiorly. "Himmler wishes you to find another book for the glory of the Third Reich.""What is that?"

"The diary of Rasputin."

Helder paled. "That is in Russia," he exclaimed.

"Better pack warm clothes," Hogan suggested. Klink snickered, clearly enjoying the Major's discomfort.

"The Major's bags are already packed. As are his guard's. I will drive you to the station."

"But, herr General, I can retrieve Merlin's spellbook!"

"Rasputin is more important."

"And this liar?" Helder shook Newkirk and Hogan shoved himself between the two, firmly yanking Helder's hand from Newkirk's collar.

"The Corporal made a mistake. He obviously has met with an accident. He must have hit his head."

"Oh, he did, sir," Hogan agreed. "I can see the bump from here."

"So can I," Klink confirmed.

"I did whack my head a bit," Newkirk said.

"You see, Major, it was a mistake."

"I don't even speak Russian!"

"You'll make do. The train leaves in an hour. Come, Major. Klink, the Corporal is yours. Newkirk, I trust you will not repeat your delusions?"

"Can't remember a thing, General," Newkirk stammered, eyes wide.

"That's good then. There's no problem then. Klink, I'm leaving."

"Yes, sir. Colonel Hogan, take Newkirk to the infirmary then the barracks."

"Yes, sir." Hogan grasped Newkirk's shoulder and they left.

Outside, Newkirk looked at Hogan, eyes wide. "Rasputin?"

"Easier to sneak into Russia than England," Hogan shrugged.

"'Ow did you do this?"

"I pretended I was you, old chap."

Newkirk winced. "Your English accent needs a lot of 'elp, gov'nor."

"Good thing my teacher's sticking around then." Hogan grinned. The guards opened the gates as Burkhalter's car left.

"And our beloved Major heads to Russia." Newkirk simply stared at him. "You really need to trust me more, Peter." He grinned wider.

"You're a bloody miracle worker, gov'nor." Newkirk grinned. "Thanks for everything, mate." His voice softened on the last word and in that word, Hogan heard all Newkirk couldn't say. _If there is another side, if I have a choice, I'll always be there, watching your back._

"Come on. Let's get your RAF uniform on. It's been cleaned. And LeBeau has breakfast waiting."

In the barracks, LeBeau grinned. "I told you, mon ami. Mon Colonel would not let you go."

"Yeah, we need you." Carter gestured. "You can sleep in my bunk until your back heals."

"I'm not that weak," Newkirk snorted. Then his voice gentled. "But thanks." He looked around. "All of you, thanks."

"Don't worry, you'll pay us back," Kinch chuckled. "We have uniforms that need alteration."

"And new papers to forge."

"And pictures to draw."

"'Old up there, Carter, I can't draw."

"This says you can," Hogan disagreed, pulling out Newkirk's notebooks.

"They're scribbles," Newkirk protested.

"I say they're not." Newkirk opened his mouth then simply gave in. He cocked an eyebrow at his CO, letting him know he was only giving in for the moment. Hogan continue. "First order of business is letting you heal, Newkirk. We have an ammo train to hit. We'll need you."

Newkirk nodded. "That's what I'm 'ere for, mate."


	10. Chapter 10

Two days later:

Wilson checked Newkirk's back and face. "They're healing," he said. "I bet it hurts, though."

"It's all right." Newkirk shrugged. "Say, Wilson, about the envelopes I gave you..." He paused at Wilson's flinch. "You didn't...bloody 'Ell, Wilson! They weren't supposed to get them until I died!"

"Come on, Newkirk! I don't know what you wrote but Carter reads his letter every few days, LeBeau guards his with his life and I think Kinch has memorized his. They get something from those words you wrote."

"They do?" Newkirk looked surprised. "It's just words."

Wilson snorted. "Words from the heart."

"And the gov'nor?" Newkirk's words, soft as they were, held an intensity Wilson rarely heard.

"Last I saw, he kept it in his Bible."

Newkirk jerked and then a gentle smile curved his lips. "That's all right then." He pulled on his sweater with only a few winces. "Don't think anything of it. It's just words, scratches on paper."

Wilson shook his head as Newkirk joined Hogan and the others. "Just words," he muttered. _You wrote your heart. You planned to lay down your life for your friends, without thought, without question while all the time denying you even cared. Sorry, Peter, they know better now. _

Hogan felt rather then heard Newkirk rejoin the group, taking up his usual position beside and slightly behind him. "Watching my back, Newkirk?" he asked, amused. He looked at Newkirk.

Newkirk's eyes locked with his and he nodded slowly. "Day and night, gov." Hogan studied him. _I'll always be there, covering your back. _Hogan finally nodded in silent acceptance. Newkirk's smile lit his face and he leaned against the wall, handing a cigeratte to LeBeau. Hogan mentally sighed, still watching Newkirk. _No greater love than this... _


End file.
